Outcast
by kymm
Summary: I know you're all hanging on word-by-word to this (HA!) so...This story tells about Smeagol's past. It starts at the finding of the Ring and I'm not sure where it will stop. It tells about his family, his pain, and his life as an outcast.
1. The Finding of the Ring

"Outcast"  
  
Part One: The Finding of the Ring  
  
January 9, 2002  
  
This is about Smeagol-Gollum's past and it is told from his point of view. I thought that more Gollum stories were needed around here. ; ) Also, this doesn't follow the book exactly. But you can forgive me. I found part of this in my algebra notebook and decided to finish it.   
  
The sun shone onto the sleepy village quietly, almost as if it was afraid to wake it from its deep slumber. For the sun knew that the village was quite unaware of everything - from the date, the time, to its own destiny. The sun almost seemed to be afraid of their reaction to her morning appearance.  
  
To Smeagol, the young heir to the richest woman in the village, the sun was most unwelcome. Smeagol hated the sun; he hated how it peered at him with its evil light, so very bright in his face. It was a spy, a sneak, a treacherous thing - much like himself, which was what he hated most about it. He did not like to be reminded of himself.  
  
The remainder of the village didn't mind the sun's rising. It was the dawning of a new day, though many new days were hardly different from the days before. Indeed, most days consisted of pampering Smeagol's grandmother, Deaga. Deaga was a very well to do citizen of the village, and she ran not a household but a dynasty. She was her family's matriarch. Her least favorite relative was, in fact, Smeagol, but he was the oldest of her cousins, making him her heir.  
  
In consolation, Smeagol thought very little of his grandmother, nearly as little as she thought of him. Unlike the majority of the village, Smeagol spent no time at his home, but more time on the shores of the River Anduin with his friend, Deagol. If Smeagol were ever to think of Deagol as a friend, he would laugh, for he had no friends. He was an outcast. Deagol was more of a companion, slyer than most, but still very slow and stupid.  
  
On this particular day, something very important happened, though Smeagol himself was not aware of it. That is where our story will begin.  
  
Smeagol was engaged to marry a Stoor (which people of Smeagol's race were called) by the name of Feaga, daughter of Feagol. Grandmother had arranged this marriage a very short time ago, and Smeagol was extremely displeased.  
  
"You shall have to bring this family honor someday, Smeagol, and marrying Ms. Feaga is the way to go about it," Grandmother snapped irritably.  
  
"I would rather goess fisshing, Grandmother love," Smeagol drawled. He knew that his sloppiness of speech annoyed Grandmother greatly.  
  
"We have has this discussion before, and the matter is settled. You shall marry Feaga at the strike of noon on the next dawn," Grandmother continued, straightening the gray plaits of her hair. "Now, be off with you! There shall be no more arguing on this matter. Go to the River Anduin and fish, if you must!"  
  
With a low hiss, Smeagol slipped out of the foyer into the spacious garden of his home. "On my birthdayss, all of thiss, my love!" he said to the creature waiting for him behind a flowering bush. The creature was Deagol, his companion.  
  
"It is indeed unfortunate," Deagol agreed in his usual serious tone. "For you anyway."  
  
"I doesn't wants to be the heir to thiss family, Deagol," Smeagol hissed softly. "I would rather go fisshing."  
  
"Then let us go!" Deagol exclaimed. "Before tomorrow comes and you can no longer go fishing."  
  
The two walked out of the garden into the Market Square. It was bustling with activity. Nobody paid any heed to Deagol, but many stopped to bid Smeagol good day. He supposed that they had heard about his marriage and were trying to get on his favorable side. It would never work, for he had no intention of getting married.  
  
They reached Gladden Fields, the marsh area that surrounded the river, in less than five minutes. Deagol set to untying their boat from the dock, but Smeagol stalked off into the reeds. He was more interested in sneaking around the area than he was in fishing, since lore told of a great treasure that was hidden somewhere in the river or in the fields.  
  
"Smeagol, are you coming?" asked Deagol. Smeagol hissed and came out of the reeds.  
  
"What are you doing in there?" said Deagol with a scowl. "I thought that you wanted to go fishing."  
  
"I does, dear Deagol, but I wantss to search the area as well," Smeagol said.  
  
"Are you still looking for that confounded treasure?" demanded Deagol immediately. He knew that whenever they came fishing, Smeagol always searched for the treasure of ages past.  
  
"I was only seeing, Deagol," Smeagol protested.  
  
"Well, whatever it was that you were doing, stop it and get into the boat," said Deagol impatiently.  
  
Smeagol obeyed with reluctance. Deagol muttered to himself about how dangerous it was to go off into the marshes of the fields alone. Smeagol hissed in dissent.  
  
Deagol pushed the boat from the dock quickly and deftly. He rowed the old, worn vessel past the area of stinking reeds into the open lake that separated their village from the wilderness.  
  
"I suppose we will catch a great number of fish today, Smeagol," said Deagol cheerfully. He had already attached a hook to his pole and was about to lower it into the lake. Smeagol made no reply.  
  
"Smeagol, are you back there?" he asked. Still Smeagol said nothing. Deagol turned away from his fishing pole. He saw that Smeagol had jumped out of the boat and saw him lurking in the banks close to the shore.  
  
"Blast that deceitful creature!" he muttered. An old bit that his father had said to him often enough came back into his memory: "You chose your own company, so make your choice wise!" He didn't think that he had done so. Smeagol was a good enough companion, and there was nothing wrong with searching the banks for some forgotten (by most) treasure, but he was a sneaking, treacherous thing and Deagol knew it.  
  
Deagol sighed and plunged his pole deeper into the lake. There he sat for several minutes, doing nothing but staring into the deep cerulean sky. Then he felt a snag on his line.  
  
"Well, there you have it Smeagol!" exclaimed Deagol, deeply pleased. "Today was the day to go fishing, not to be a sneaking off in the banks!"  
  
He drew the pole back more to snag the fish. The pole, however, was disagreeable. It bent toward the surface of the lake, dragging Deagol along with it.  
  
"It's a big one by the feel of it," Deagol said, more quietly than he had when he had shouted moments earlier.  
  
The fish jerked away, bringing Deagol's head into the water with a splash. For several fleeting seconds, Deagol could see nothing save the line that descended to the bottom of the lake. The fish jerked again, this time bringing the rest of Deagol into the water as well. The fish pulled him rapidly to the bottom of the lake. He tried to shout for help, but his voice could not be found. He looked around and found that his line had broken. He let it go and watched it float away. He bucked backward, attempting to maneuver himself to the top of the lake. However, as he attempted this, he saw a glitter of gold at the bottom of the lake. It was beautiful; more beautiful than all the gold of Smeagol's family that he had ever seen. He reached out to it, blindly snatching the treasure in his hand. He found that he had no breath left, and he wondered if he would live. A stupid thing to wonder, really, he thought to himself. He touched the lake bottom with his foot and pushed himself up  
to the surface. Luckily, this was the shallowest part of the lake and he reached the surface quickly.  
  
Spluttering and coughing, he swam to the bank. He wasn't the greatest swimmer, but it was easy enough to swim in a shallow lake. He reached the bank in a short amount of time. He stretched out on the cool, muddy ground, feeling utterly exhausted. Then he remembered the treasure. He opened him palm up looked at it. It was a small, golden ring. He thought it very odd that he would risk his life for such a small thing, since wealth meant very little to him. But it made his heart glad, nonetheless, to look at such a pretty thing. He and his poor family had so very little; it would please them to have such a thing in their possession.  
  
Smiling, Deagol wiped the ring completely clean with his shirtsleeve. He held it up in the bright sunlight and it seemed to glitter and gleam with a special magnificence.  
  
With an effort he pulled himself upright. He turned back toward town, but Smeagol was peering at him from behind a tree, his eyes alight with curiosity. Deagol's heart sank. He had probably seen the ring, and now wanted it for himself. He quickly shoved it in his shirt pocket.  
  
"What are you looking at me for?" asked Deagol abrasively.  
  
Smeagol stepped out from behind the tree, his eyes gleaming strangely. He walked slowly until he was standing directly in front of Deagol. "Give us that, Deagol, my love," he said softly.  
  
"Why?" asked Deagol. He backed away from Smeagol until he was on the very edge of the river. "It's mine, as I found it."  
  
"Because it's my birthday, my love, and I wantss it," said Smeagol in an almost angry manner.  
  
"I've already given you a birthday present," said Deagol. "It was more than I could afford, seeing as today's your comin' of age. But I cannot give you this. I found it and it's mine! I'm going to keep it."  
  
Smeagol raised an eyebrow and came closer to Deagol. Deagol could feel his eyes on his breast pocket. "Are you indeed, my love?" he hissed softly.  
  
Deagol swallowed nervously. The look in Smeagol's eyes frightened him. "Yes, I am."  
  
Smeagol reached out and latched his long fingers around Deagol's throat. The two fell to the ground and Smeagol continued to choke Deagol. Deagol struggled to fight back, but it was of no use. Smeagol was much stronger than he, and Deagol was dead without much of a struggle.  
  
Smeagol breathed heavily as he reached into Deagol's breast pocket and pulled out the ring. It was so beautiful, and was certainly worth a great deal of money. Deagol hadn't deserved such a thing, and he hadn't deserved life either. Who was Deagol to refuse to give he, Smeagol, something when he asked for it? Especially when he had searched so long and hard for the treasure of the lake.  
  
"Someday," said Smeagol quite loudly, "I shall be the most richest Stoor ever to exist! All shall bow down to Lord Smeagol!" With that thought in mind, he put on the coveted ring and picked up Deagol's body. He decided to hide it deep within the reeds of the marsh, where no one would ever find it. No person would ever know that he had murdered his friend, because there would be no proof of it.  
  
After he finished this, he walked back to the village. Even immediately after killing Deagol, he felt no remorse. If Deagol had truly valued his life, he would have given Smeagol the ring straight away.  
  
He had done Deagol a favor.  
  
Continue, or no? I don't know; I quite like this story so far and I'd like to continue it, seeing as this is an area that isn't touched upon often in fanfiction. But if no one's going to read it, then I suppose it's no use. Oh well. Review if you liked (or hated). 


	2. Discoveries

****

"Outcast" 

Part Two: Discoveries 

February 17, 2002 

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Hello, all my fans! (All two of you.) (Okay, so that was an overstatement. All one of you.) Here is the next part. Tra la la la! 

Smeagol reached home swiftly, wearing the ring proudly upon his finger. None of the people in the streets had said anything to him; perhaps they had taken the hint that he had no intention of marrying, at least out of his own free will. 

He attempted to sneak up to his room to quietly marvel at his precious treasure, but it was to no avail. His grandmother was walking down the entrance hall and was sure to see Smeagol on the staircase. 

But she passed right by. 

This surprised Smeagol greatly, for Grandmother always berated him whenever she saw the chance. He especially expected it from her now, after all the protesting he had done about his upcoming marriage to Feaga. 

Feaga was a nice enough Stoor-girl, he reflected as he continued to trudge up the stairs. She was also beautiful, and many of the younger boys longed for her. Smeagol didn't really care for a wife, nor for a lady-friend. He did not like being forced into marriage. He wondered what Feaga thought about the whole ordeal. He had talked to her scarcely, and the conversations they had were always short and dull. He supposed that she rather liked Smeagol's inheritance to his family's fortune. 

His room was on the top of the stairs. He was convinced that it was the smallest room in the house, but he kept that to himself. He opened the door quietly, not wanting to attract the attention of Grandmother, and shut it slowly. There was no one in his room, not even the maid. He sat on the edge of his bed, pushing his curly hair out of his face. He looked at finger in awe. The ring, his precious, as he had taken to calling it, was so very pretty. It was golden, and it shone with great beauty. Moreover, it was a treasure that was his alone; it wasn't to be shared with neither his nasty, sneaking cousins nor his overbearing grandmother. 

He thought of taking the ring off to admire it more closely, but thought against it. He felt as if he would be less important with it off than with it on. 

He pressed his hand to his face, eyeing the beautiful gold with a powerful lust. It was beautiful…ravishing...exquisite…it was precious, though it had only been in his possession for a matter of minutes…. 

The door to his room opened. He immediately hid his hand behind his back, thinking it his Grandmother. 

"She'd takess it right away, my preciouss…" he said in soft explanation to the Ring. He felt horrible, hiding It behind his back. But the deed had to be done. 

He turned to face the doorframe. His Grandmother was standing there, looking directly at him. Smeagol felt his heart drop into his belly. She had probably seen the Ring…she would take It…he would never see it again…. He had the sudden urge to choke out Grandmother. 

Grandmother sighed. "Where is that boy? Honestly, I do not know why I bother with him…he is not worth the trouble.'' 

Smeagol nearly gasped in surprise. There was Grandmother, standing directly in front of him, looking straight at him…yet nothing! She did not even see him. Had she gone blind? 

If she had…it was his chance to get rid of her. He would never have to listen to her again…he would not have to marry…he could fish…eat the tasty fishes… 

He slowly raised himself from the bed. Grandmother had not moved. She was muttering to herself about what a horrible boy Smeagol was. Smeagol supposed this was true, but he did not care. He crept toward her, meticulously raising his right arm. He would strangle her, and she wouldn't even see it happen. He and the Precious would have a victory. 

But! Fate was not on his side. When his arm was only inches from Grandmother's neck, ready to throttle, she moved. 

"I shall find that boy," she said angrily, "and I shall tell him that he has missed the wedding rehearsal. Oh, why do I even bother with him? He shall never live up to his father's expectations, nor his mother's. They would be ashamed to see him in this state!" She turned away from the bed and stalked out of the room. Smeagol let out his breath in a clear hiss as she shut the door. 

"Curse the father," Smeagol hissed as he paced the length of the room, "he never stayed with Smeagol, oh no Preciousss!" It angered him when Grandmother talked of his father and mother; the pain was still deep in his heart. 

He walked to the looking glass on the opposite side of the room. He wondered what Grandmother would say when she discovered that she had gone blind. Perhaps she had already run into a wall. He snickered at the thought. 

He looked into the glass. 

He saw nothing. 

Not his usual, grimy face and dirty, scummy body, but nothing. He was invisible. 

The original thought that came to his mind was disappointment. His Grandmother would not have run into a wall, since he was the one that was invisible. But after that initial thought wore away, he became excited. He would finally be able to sneak to the kitchens at night! He would be able to steal things! He could trip people as they walked past. He could explore caves never before explored. He could run away from the wedding. 

________________________________________

The plan occurred to him late that night. He already knew that he would not get married to Feaga. He knew that he would use the Ring to do it. But he did not know how. 

He lay in bed, invisible, looking at the ring with the sort of pride that a mother would have of her newborn baby. In a way, after all, it was his baby. It had come to him on his birthday. It had been a rather pleasant birthday. He had gotten away form his relatives most of the day, until he thought that he should make an appearance at dinner. Grandmother became angry with him – she demanded to know where he had been all day. The servants scuffled to make her a batch of tea to calm her nerves. 

After tea, they had performed the wedding rehearsal. Smeagol now hated the idea of becoming married more than ever before. There was too much dignity and prettiness about it – and above all, too many flowers. Smeagol hated flowers. They were smelly and they made him sneeze. 

His plan was basic. He would hide the Ring in his pocket. When it came to the vows, instead of saying 'I do' he would slip the Ring on his finger and run away from the village forever. It would shock poor Feaga terribly; however, all she wanted was the family fortune.   
  
And perhaps, thought Smeagol to himself with a sneer, Grandmother would die of surprise.

__

This is very short, but it's not like anyone is hanging on word-by-word. (Insert laughter here.) Well, at least I have a good sense of humor about it all. :) 


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